


paint

by frooley



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Also alive! Freddie, Fluff, Fluffy, Kinda, M/M, Mitch is a professional artist, The fact that hes dead made me cry, mitjo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 07:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11595975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frooley/pseuds/frooley
Summary: Mitch is an artist in search of inspiration, he finds it, but it's better than he expected.





	paint

**Author's Note:**

> ah,,,, the news abt Freddie l i t e r a l l y made me c r y. So, i needed to write him alive or i wouldn't be able to die in peace.

Old wooden brushes lay in his hands, auburn strokes followed by onyx eyes.

He had no inspiration.

He loved painting, drawing, but recently he felt stuck. This is commonly categorized as 'artblock'. He doesn't get it often, as he had a pretty creative imagination.

Maybe it's because he's been inside for about a week, working on a commission for a close friend of his, Javier. Or maybe it's because his mother found her way back in jail for a petty crime and he was stressed about it. He didn't know.

He rubbed at his chin, his overgrown stubble pricking at his fingers.

He needed to get out.

\---------------

There was a lot to do California, in general, but Sellwood? Not much.

A shut down amusement park? Cool, maybe grab some ideas, but no.

A small coffee shop? Too cliche, also too busy.

A park? Also cliche, but might be more beneficial.

He decides to settle under a tree, the sound of leaves rusting in the wind occupy his mind and he pulls out his sketchbook.

He observes his surroundings, seeing a family having a picnic and some people sitting at benches.

He peers down at the blank page in front of him, stroking the page with his pencil a few times before the long, wobbly line of a tree side appears.

He taps his chin in thought with the utensil, an idea sparking in his mind.

...but before he begins his idea, he's hit in the side of the head with some hard, flimsy object.

He hears a shout of 'JOEY!' and 'OH GEEZ' before feet moving on the wet grass towards him.

"Oh gosh, oh gosh, I'm SO sorry, sir. I didn't mean to hit you!" A voice calls from above him. He's not out of it, but pain still is whirling through his head.

He blinks a few times, finally registering the hand in front of him. It's small, and almost thinks he should just deny it and get by himself. Yet, his arms prove otherwise and he has no choice to take the hand.

They stumble at bit, but he's finally on his feet.

He suddenly feels like shouting at this guy, too be more careful.

And he opens his mouth to do so, but as his eyes register the guy, he shuts it.

The guy has freckles everywhere and he thought it was amazing. The guys skin was amazing, a nice light brown, like milk chocolate but not quite. Even his eyes were amazing.

was amazing the word he was looking for?

No.

But, he couldn't convince himself to say the guy was beautiful. Gosh, that would make things awkward.

  
Well, more than it already was, because the fact that he wasn't saying anything and was just staring at the guy, was not good and no better.

"Uh, again, I am truly sorry, are you okay?" The guy asks, and it's heavenly to him.

"Oh, uh, yeah I'm fine, jus' fine. Just be more careful, okay?" He replies, stuffing his hands in his hoddie pockets.

"Oh thank god, I promise I will. Uh, can I have my frisbee back, though?" The guy rubs the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable, or nervous. He could never really tell the difference.

He snaps to realization, though, and reaches down to get the frisbee.

"Here ya go, uh.."

"Jonas,"

"How 'bout Joey?"

"Okay," he laughs.

"I'm Mitch, by the way."

"Okay, Mitch." 


End file.
